


Monster

by wuwu



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, X-Ray & Vav (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Comfort, Gore, Gore can be skipped, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Skippable Gore, Torture, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuwu/pseuds/wuwu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands feel thick and moist, either from the sweat or the thought of blood on his hands, he can’t tell. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, X-Ray’s screams and Vav’s pleads stuck in the forefront of his thoughts. The questions and attempted barters stick with him, both just wanting to get away from him. Get away from the <em>monster,</em> as Vav had put it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> **This whole beginning part in italics is gore and is skippable if you don't want to read it. You don't need to know what happened in the dream to understand the story.**

_”Please, just let us go,” he cries out. “We’ll leave you alone! We’ll leave this goddamn city if it means you’ll just let us out of here.”_

_“We won’t turn you in or nothin’!” That was the other one. “We’ll pack up a-an’ leave! Nobody’ll know what you’re doin’ t’ us!”_

_Mogar shakes his head._

_“But then there’d be no fun,” he grins, a sadistic lilt to his voice. “No, you’re staying here.”_

_“Please,” Vav whimpers. “Let us out of here.”_

_“What did we even do?!” X-Ray screams. He tries to tear his hands away from the board he’s strapped to, chains bound to his wrists holding him back. They rattle and clang together as his chest rises and falls in heavy movements._

_“I keep you here because I love you,” Mogar frowns. “You two know that, don’t you?”_

_“You’re fucking crazy!” X-Ray calls out, a snarl on his face. His fear betrays him, though, as his eyes were darting around and his whole body seemed to be shaking._

_Mogar rolls his eyes and takes long strides to reach the Hispanic hero, grabbing a scalpel from the metal tool tray next to him. He turns it in his hands, ignoring the apologies spilling from his boyfriend’s mouth, and brings it up to his line of sight. X-Ray shut his eyes and shakes his head, gasping in pain as his face was held in a rough grip._

_“You know I hate doing this to you,” Mogar whispers. He brings the scalpel up to the other’s face, dragging it slowly against his cheek, and_ tsk’s _at the blood flowing down._

_X-Ray bites his lip, keeping from crying out because it seems he had long learned his lesson of making any noise during his punishments._

_He doesn’t know what they did wrong._

_Mogar smears the blood with his thumb, dropping the scalpel and ignoring the clang it made as it hit the floor. He holds his cheek in place with one thumb, using the now bloodied one to open the wound and watch as the blood drips out even faster. He pouts at the sight of a few tears rolling down and kisses X-Ray’s crimson cheek._

_“You look beautiful like this.”_

_Mogar lets his hands drop to X-Ray’s sides, running his fingers up and down his slim waist, loving the way his stomach caves into itself the longer his fingers remain there. He lets one hand stray away, reaching for a much larger and sharper scalpel on the table. X-Ray visibly tenses under his hand, shaking his head with miniscule movements._

_“Shh, you’ll be alright,” Mogar speaks softly. He rubs small circles with his thumb as he uses the scalpel to cut away the tattered remains of the green spandex suit. “Just don’t move.”_

_“Holy shit, holy shit,” X-Ray repeats, gasping and gulping as he feels the metal slice through his skin. “Stop, stop, stop.”_

_Mogar ignores the man’s pleads, opting to cut and slice over the incision several times until he gets what he wants. What seemed to be an endless amount of blood spills out of X-Ray’s stomach, immersing his lower half in blood as it dribbles to the floor and leaves a pool around Mogar’s feet. He screams and writhes as much as his chained up body would allow as the scalpel drops and a pair of hands move to hold onto either side of the gash. Mogar pulls his hands apart and rips X-Ray’s stomach open, prying away the skin and muscle attached. It takes a few attempts, tearing through the layers of his body proving to be more difficult than expected. Once his stomach is opened far enough, though, Mogar allows his hands to delve inside of the man._

_“You feel so nice,” Mogar praises, eyes beaming as he pulls out some of X-Ray’s small intestine. The pale pink organ sits in his hands, hanging down as the remainder slides out of his stomach. Parts of it lie on the blood soaked floor while Mogar fawnes over it, rubbing and sliding his fingers over the slickness of it._

_X-Ray could quite literally feel his stomach drop as well as his other organs, sliding down and hanging in the empty space that his small intestine used to occupy._

_The Hispanic could only stare into Mogar’s eyes when the warrior looks up, throat rough and blown out from screaming. His mouth is quivering as he looks around the room slowly, eyes locking onto his forgotten partner a few meters across from him._

_“Mogar, stop!” Vav screams. He shakes his arms and legs as best as he can, identical chains rattling as his ankles and wrists play a god-awful tune with the metal._

_“And to think we’d have more fun together,” Mogar mutters, eyelids only half open. He sighs to himself before dropping the intestine, reaching inside and ripping it apart from X-Ray’s body. More blood spurts out at him from broken arteries and passageways, leaving a trail of spatters on his milky white chest. As soon as he disconnects it, end by end, Mogar lets it slide to the floor with a look of disgust._

_“Messy, messy,” he speaks. Stepping out of the pool of blood and walking over to Vav, he grabs the metal table and rolls it along, stopping it only a couple of feet in front of the brit._

_Tears are streaming down his face, small scars littered around his neck as well as a few yellowing bruises. He shakes every few seconds as hiccups wrack his body and leave him almost unable to breathe._

_“Don’t cry little bird,” Mogar frowns. “You know I hate it when you cry.”_

_“Y-you lied to us,” Vav chokes out. “You never loved us.”_

_“Oh, don’t say that,” Mogar says softly. “I love the both of you. Inside and out.”_

_“You’re a liar,” Vav snarls. “You lie and pretend and you’re nothing but a monster! A monster who doesn’t care about anybody or--”_

_“Don’t you_ ever _say that again,” Mogar snaps, grabbing onto the man’s jaw with a solid grip. He holds on for a few more seconds, locking onto Vav’s terrified eyes with his own anger orbs before settling down. His hold loosens before he lets go entirely, scowling as he reaches out with one hand to grab a pair of pliers._

_“You know what happens when you speak out like that,” Mogar reprimands. He shakes his head as he brings up the sleek, metal pliers, holding it out in front of Vav’s face._

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats, words stuck on auto play as he stares with frantic eyes. “I didn’t mean it! You know I love you, Mogar. I love you so much.”_

_“I know you do,” Mogar says solemnly. “And that’s why I’m letting you off easy. Only one tooth.” He sticks the handle into his mouth as he uses his hands to pry open Vav’s mouth, fighting with the man as he struggles to keep the blond still._

_As soon as his mouth opens, Vav clamps down on Mogar’s fingers with his canines, effectively ripping a curse from the warrior’s mouth as he attempts to rip his fingers out. After a few seconds of struggling, Mogar headbutts the other and hopes the pliers would hit hard enough for his mouth to loosen._

_He gets his wish not even five seconds later, snatching his hand away with a glare before striking Vav across the face with his palm. Both his index and middle fingers on either hand are covered in bite marks, red and slippery from the pain and saliva. He takes the pliers out of his mouth and dries them on his pant leg._

_“You just don’t learn, do you?” Mogar asks. He moves forward and raises his knee as he gets close enough, pressing it against Vav’s groin with slight pressure before opening his mouth easily. “That’s better.” He grabs onto one of Vav’s molars with the pliers, pulling and applying more pressure when his fingers are on the verge of being bitten once more._

_He rips the tooth out of the brit’s mouth, dripping with blood and pieces of his gums, before the man’s eyes flutter shut and his pupils roll back into his head._

_“Wake up,” Mogar orders, dropping the pliers onto the table as he moves the superhero’s head around. “We’re not finished. Wake. Up.” His hands are brought up to slap his cheeks several times, gaining no response for his attempts._

_“WAKE UP GODDAMNIT,” Mogar screams, throwing jabs and smacks to Vav’s face before being pulled away._

 

Michael’s eyes shoot open as soon as he brings himself to consciousness, hands darting up to clutch and claw at his dampened chest. His breaths come out in drawn out inhales and cut off exhales, chest heaving as he frantically looks around the room to be met with a disappointing darkness around himself. It quiet, save for his harsh breathing and what he assumes to be Ray’s obnoxious snoring. The sound is slightly comforting, but Michael is soon thrown into a fit of panic as he realizes that yes, he’s lying next to his boyfriends, and yes, they’re the same boyfriends he had just tortured in his dream.

He feels Gavin grab his arm, and Michael wastes no time in throwing the covers off of himself to get away from the both of them. And Michael is terrified of himself, so he does the only thing he can do and locks himself in the bathroom because he’s Mogar and he can’t be scared of anything but he’s _Mogar_ and it’s extremely likely he would’ve harmed the duo should he have never actually met them. Because that’s what he used to do. He hunted down those that did evil, grabbed anyone with opposing views, annihilated anyone who got in his way. He was a killer. A monster.

What made it worse was that he had no qualms when getting it done.

He had enjoyed it; felt happy while ripping screams from their throats and drawing blood, but not anymore. No, not when Michael did the thing that Mogar yearned for to those that he loved most.

And now he just feels sick.

Michael lets himself drop to his knees as he clutches onto the toilet seat, bile and acid spilling out of his mouth and into the bowl. The smell of blood hangs around his nose, filling up his senses and overriding them as he feels like he’s drowning in it. His back is slick with sweat and his curls stick uncomfortably to his forehead and the nape of his neck. Everything is blurry and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if it’s because he’s heaving so much or if it’s both but he can’t bring himself to care as his throat burns from aiding his stomach in emptying its contents. The sounds he’s making don’t help, either.

Almost twenty minutes later does Michael calm down enough to hear the faint knocking and mumbling on the other side of the, thankfully locked, door.

“Michael?” Gavin asks softly. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Michael shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, focusing on forcing the bile down long enough to make out a small reply. His throat burns from heaving and throwing up all that he could, and he’s still terrified of even letting himself near his boys, but he’s not that much of an asshole as to leave him without an answer.

“I’m fine,” he croaks out, hoping that his words are audible enough as is because he really doesn’t want to get up or speak louder. “Just sick.”

“Do you need medicine? We have some pills in the kitchen, I think. Or I could run down to the store and get some more,” Gavin offers and it makes Michael even sicker that he would ever dream of hurting someone so sweet.

“No, I’m good,” Michael declines. “Go back to bed.” He hears a quiet “Okay” and the sound of Gavin’s feet slowly padding away before letting himself hang over the toilet seat once more. He spits out any residue that lingers in his mouth and listens to the sound of his heavy breathing and the occasional drop of spit as it hits the water in the toilet. It smells rancid and makes him feel horrible just sitting next to it, so Michael reaches up to flush it before leaning away and letting his back fall against the cold, tiled wall.

His bare legs are outstretched in front of himself, each on either side of the toilet, and his hands are held up in front of his chest. He clenches and unclenches them as they shake, reminding himself that this is real. He’s real. He’s safe. His boys are safe. Nobody is hurt.

Everything is okay.

Except nothing is okay because what the fuck is wrong with him? Who dreams about torturing their boyfriend? Much less _two_ of them?

His hands feel thick and moist, either from the sweat or the thought of blood on his hands, he can’t tell. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, X-Ray’s screams and Vav’s pleads stuck in the forefront of his thoughts. The questions and attempted barters stick with him, both just wanting to get away from him. Get away from the _monster,_ as Vav had put it.

Really, what more was he than some weapon? He grew up surrounded by violence, welcomed it, _cherished_ it. It would always surround him and linger in every nook and crevice of his mind. He wasn’t anything special.

A knock brings him out of his thoughts, this one louder than the ones Gavin had done earlier. Michael waits for another, wanting nothing more than for it to be a one time thing.

“Michael,” Gavin calls out. “You’ve been in there awfully long.”

“Just let us in,” Ray says, voice laced with sleep. “We both know you’re not fine.”

Panic rushes through Michael’s veins, every hair standing on end as the knocking and urging to unlock the door continues. He can hear the fretting in Gavin’s voice; he can practically see the man bouncing from foot to foot to see what was eating away at Michael. Ray’s words become less and less drowsy, eventually turning into full blown worry as he tries to jiggle the door open every minute or so.

“Go away,” Michael tells the two after several minutes had passed, knowing they wouldn’t leave any time soon if he didn’t make them.

“You know we aren’t gonna do that,” Ray replies. “Something’s up with you.”

“I’m just feeling sick.”

“If you were just sick you would’ve let us in by now,” Ray quips. “C’mon, what’s bothering you, Michael?”

“Please tell us,” Gavin whines.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Michael snaps and god, he had never felt himself cringe harder than at that moment. He clamps down on the insides of his cheeks, biting harder and harder as he yells at himself internally for being such an _idiot._ He’d raised his voice so easily, had flared up far too soon, and he’d be lying if he told anyone that he could handle it. He feels angry and pained, inconsiderate and worried, confused and aching.

“Michael, please,” Gavin continues. “We’ll leave you alone for as long as you like, but don’t keep yourself locked in there.”

And Gavin was pleading again, just like _Vav._

“Open the door, asshole,” Ray snaps back.

“Just go to bed, I’m fine,” Michael insists, because there is no way he’s going to let those two see him in this state. Broken and covered in grime, both inside and out.

“Listen, you’ve got to quit doing this bullshit,” Ray barks out.

“Ray, stop,” Gavin speaks quietly.

“No, Gav, he needs to get this through his head,” Ray presses on. His fist bangs against the door, voice bordering on one of a snarl. “You’re not some strong guy or whatever you think you are. You’re _not_ Mogar, not in this fucking apartment. Your name is Michael, and you cry and get hurt just like the rest of us, so quit acting like you can deal with all this shit on your own. We’re your boyfriends, and we’re sure as hell going to help you through whatever that’s got you down. Quit trying to be something you’re not and just come out here.”

Michael shakes his head, bringing his hands up to run and pull at his curls uselessly. The only reason he was hiding was because he _wasn’t_ strong. He can’t be Mogar all the time, can’t keep up the act that long. He has to run and hide like everybody else because he’s weak and terrified and can’t deal with the fears that plague his thoughts.

But that made him human.

Because what kind of monster got scared? What monster had nightmares of the wrongdoings it had done long, long before that moment in time?

Tears threaten to spill out of Michael’s eyes as he lets himself go and crawls to unlock the door. The click pulls a sigh from both Ray and Gavin on the other side, and Michael lets himself plop back down to the floor as Gavin rushes in to wrap his arms around his shoulders.

Sweat rubs at the brit’s arms and cling to his shirt, but he doesn’t care as he runs his fingers through Michael’s hair and chokes out a laugh as he feels the man’s hands rest against his hips. He pulls back after a few seconds, wiping away the onslaught of tears as he presses a quick kiss to Michael’s forehead.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, rubbing at Michael’s shoulders.

Michael shakes his head with a quivering frown. His hands shoot up to gently grab Gavin on either side of his jawline, bringing him close so he can press several quick kisses to the brit’s cheeks. He can feel the anger and disappointment with himself seep out of his body as he confirms that he would never hurt Gavin for as long as he lived. God, he would never even think about it. The feel of his boyfriend’s body next to him only solidifies the thought.

Gavin pulls back slowly and Michael stops, reluctantly, before another kiss presses against his forehead. Gavin moves away to kneel behind him and rub at the knots in his back before Ray takes his place in front of Michael.

He has an uneasy frown on his face, taking in the sight of Michael’s pale skin and beaten up lips. He’s got a sheen of sweat on his forehead, curls plastered to his skin and almost meeting his fear blown eyes. He’s shaking less than before now, somewhat calmed down at the appearance of the two, and Ray can’t help the shutting of his eyes as he leans his head against Michael’s.

“I’m sorry,” Michael mutters.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“No, I should’ve talked to you two,” Michael resumes. “I shouldn’t have ignored your help.”

“It’s fine,” Ray utters. “Besides, we’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Michael gives a small nod before slowly placing his hands on Ray’s waist, sliding lower until he can ruck up the man’s shirt to press his palms against his warm stomach. The skin above Ray’s navel is smooth and bare, whereas a happy trail pricks Michael’s hand as moves his hands around.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Making sure you’re okay,” Michael shrugs. His eyes are downcast as he focuses on the feel of skin on skin, pivoting his attention on his hands on Ray and the pressure of Gavin rubbing his shoulders. His breathing had regulated to a somewhat normal pace, heart beats slowing down and thoughts moving at a much more manageable pace than before.

Ray nods as he watches Michael start to rub circles into his skin with his thumbs. He glances up at Gavin to see the man’s gaze set on Michael’s back. His bottom lip is pinned between his teeth and his eyebrows are furrowed upwards.

Everyone is quiet for a few minutes as they wait for Michael to speak once more, waiting for him to come out of his shell.

“Can we go to the couch?” he asks, eyes darting up to lock onto Ray’s.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he nods, standing up slowly before reaching his hands out to Michael.

Gavin gets up on his own behind the two, quickly moving to catch Michael by the waist as he struggles to stand. His legs are asleep from sitting for so long and it shows as he takes half of a regular step every time he lifts his foot. It takes a couple of minutes to work their way around furniture and corners, but the three eventually make it and move to sit. Ray sits first at the end of the couch, Michael following behind and laying down across the cushions with his head in his boyfriend’s lap. He pulls Gavin on top of himself so the brit’s cheek can rest against his chest, the younger’s feet swinging in the air as he snakes his hands under Michael so his arms can wrap around the man.

“It was a nightmare,” Michael says after a sigh.

Gavin presses a kiss to his chest.

“I was hurting you two,” he almost whispers, letting out a trembling exhale. “There was so much blood. And screaming. And I wouldn’t stop. I just kept going and going and you both wanted me to stop, but I couldn’t.”

Ray cards his fingers through Michael’s curls.

“And when I got myself to wake up, I was so scared, you know? Everything was just so _real,_ and it hurt,” Michael chokes out. “‘Cause I used to do that stuff. I used to hurt people so much where there’d be nothing but blood on my body, an’ I wouldn’t even care. I loved it. And then I did it to the two of you, but I couldn’t make myself stop. I was craving it.”

Gavin nods against Michael’s chest.

“And all I ever do is hurt people anyways,” Michael continues, a sad laugh flowing through his lips. “I beat the shit out of anyone who gets on my nerves, my day job is just punching people ‘til the cops show, and beating things up is all I’ve ever known. It’s all I’m good for.”

“You know that’s not true,” Ray murmurs. He lets his fingers trail down to rub at Michael’s cheek but pulls away when he feels the warrior tense.

“I punched you the first time I met you,” Michael points out.

“That’s true,” Ray laughs softly. “But you had a reason, and I got in the way. I was also being an asshole.”

“Or I could’ve just told you to fuck off or something, but no, Mogar only uses violence.”

“Mogar and Michael are also two different people,” Ray counters. “Mogar uses his fists first, and that’s not a bad thing. You’ve saved our asses more times than I can count because you decided to do something instead of waiting for the bad to come to you. And Michael uses his fists, sure, but he’s more relaxed. You’re not so tense and ready to jump everyone you see. You’re carefree and sweet and funny and compassionate. Because that’s who you really are. You’re not just some fighting machine.”

“But I’m still Mogar,” Michael states, voice laced with confusion.

“You’re Mogar, but Mogar isn’t you,” Gavin supplies.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, it’s like, your name is Michael and all that. And you fight crime as Mogar. But Mogar doesn’t live as Michael. You’re always going to be Michael, whether you wear that silly bear hood or not, but you’re not always Mogar,” Gavin rephrases. “Mogar doesn’t come and cuddle on the couch, ‘cause that’s not who you are. That’s not who any of us are. X-Ray, Vav, Mogar; they’re all just silly names to hide who we really are.”

“I guess,” Michael mutters. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I was practically creaming myself in my dream where I fucking tortured the two of you.”

“Well, we both know you would never hurt us,” Ray offers. “Don’t dreams have some other fucking meaning anyways?”

“So stop worryin’,” Gavin says softly. “Something’s probably just bothering you and your mind is tryna tell you. In a weird way, I’ll admit, but we’ll work it out when we figure it out.”

“I… Okay,” Michael nods. “Alright but lets just… lay here for a bit, okay? Just until I start feeling better.”

“We’ll be here as long as you need us, Michael.”

“God, I love you guys.”

“We know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [literallyepsilon](http://literallyepsilon.tumblr.com/) and I bounced ideas off of each other for this fic, so thanks for the help!!  
>  find me on tumblr at [miachelvjones](http://miachelvjones.tumblr.com/)


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